


Spring forward/Fall back to me.

by FreckleSue



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adulthood, Age-Up loser club, Elements, F/M, Fantasy, First Person, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magic, Reddie, Seasons, Slow Burn, Spirits, Teen Romance, eddies pov, loser club - Freeform, third person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckleSue/pseuds/FreckleSue
Summary: Where in the town of Derry Maine, spirits control all four seasons year round. These spirits must Abide by three golden laws of their kind.1. Do not interact with the mortals of Derry.2. Do not cause harm upon your fellow seasons.3. There always must be one to take the role.These laws must be followed or they face the judgement from the ‘Higher Lights’
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

It’s strange sometimes.

Everyone has their favorite season of the year.

Everyone has a special memory of why that season is the best, the one above all others, be it a certain holiday, a certain event perhaps? Maybe an emotion deeply rooted within a specific month, an important day.

Sometimes they love the different colors the seasons bring. 

Bright petals for Spring, sprouting luscious green fields, beautiful flowers awake from their sleep under the lasting snow to wave at the families as they picnic, sweet floral perfume tickling their noses as they whisper the words of ‘love’ and ‘’friendships’.

Sometimes it’s the heat of Summer. Blowing its humid air across the town to give a reason for the local kids to run under their sprinklers, dive from the quarry outside of town into the lake below, cooling their overheated skin. The warm nights, perfect to gatherer and watch the sky’s explode in breathtaking patterns, flashing their flames for a brief second before fading into the night, allowing the stars to shine.

It’s the relief of soft cool winds breaking across the sun, drying your bones and giving you the sense of calm as Fall embraces you.

Seeing the leafs change, yellows, reds, organs and browns, so many to choose from, swirling together as they fall from their homes, brittle branches giving out their last breath before the cold. Locals giving their praise, the perfect weather, the perfect reason to smell of apples and cinnamons, to be cozy with your loved one as the year slowly comes to an end. 

Maybe it’s the lazy crawl of Winter, dusting the town like powder sugar with snow, turning the locals cheeks red with every touch. The chilling ice that seeps into the windows, the doors, bringing your to slow down, to stand still and admire what the year has brought and how peaceful one could be, if they simply look out onto the smooth surface of the fields, blanketed in snow. It’s the twinkling lights the locals dress across their homes and yards, singing aloud their celebration of thanks and family, to bring the world outside within with their pine trees and hollies, giving the warmth of their faith to their holiday. 

They can’t see, the locals that is. They don’t notice but each town that stands atop this land has a spirit that brings the season to their homes. 

Sometimes these spirits are on time with their months.

Sometimes they fall behind...

But they try.

There is a town in Maine called ‘Derry’. A small, quiet town.

This is their story. The story of the seasons given to this town. 

And how fall fell...


	2. Hello Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mommy always said Spring was the worst season.

Mommy always said Spring was the worst season.

Winter is no picnic either.

I once saw a mortal boy with hair as light as the suns rays and as curly as the twisted vines of my home. He came into our woods today and stared at the bare branches with such intensity that I was amazed the trees didn’t shiver in worry under his gaze.

He had a book under his arms, a worn battered book. 

The curly hair boy would sometimes sit at the root of one of the elder trees and write in that book. 

He would spend hours writing. I did notice that he stopped writing whenever one of the local birds would fly in and settle nearby. 

He must really like birds. 

Would explain why he only smiles when one lands next to him. 

Sometimes he would bring seeds and toss them out, feeding the birds who are still flying out in this cold. 

Mother would not be pleased to know her birds are enjoying this. She would be outrage to learn that a local boy is walking into our woods and feeding our creatures, trying to get closer to them when they should be sleeping the cold away.

I don’t see the harm. Neither does dad.

I was able to sneak behind him today and peek into his book. I’m curious, what is he writing?

It’s a ‘Journal#58’?

There are sketches of birds on its pages and passages of confusing thoughts. I want to ask why he writes such sad things? Why does he come to our woods? Could I keep a drawing of his?

It’s against the rules to talk to the mortals... Mother would be upset.

I asked dad what a ‘journal’ was and why would someone write such sad things into it?

He told me its a ‘binder’ full of emotions. You could fill its pages with memories you wish to never forget, dreams you want, events of things to come or have passed. A book that shows the life span of the owner that could be given to another to read or just to keep to oneself. 

Dad had a journal when he was a youngling like me. 

I asked if I could have one. 

My dad is nicer then mother, don’t let her know that. He went to his collection and pulled one from his shelves. 

The pages were made by the tree of our home, the cover by rich leather given to us as a gift years ago, dyed green which is my favorite color.

He told me to write in it. 

He told me to keep it safe.

Hello ‘Journal’ 

My name is Eddie.


	3. The Gather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s time Sonia.”
> 
> “It’s too soon.” She stressed, hands folded together in worry. “He’s too young, he wont be able to handle it!”
> 
> “They all bring their younglings every year.” Edward stated, rolling his up his sleeves. “It would do our son good to meet the others.”
> 
> “He would do fine never meeting them. They don’t understand our way and to expose Eddie-bear to it, it’s asking for trouble! I won’t allow this darling, I won’t!”
> 
> “My sweet marigold.”

“I just don’t understand why we need to do it every year!”

Eddie closed his journal at the sound of his mothers risings voice. At a quick glance around his room, he slide his book onto his desk before rising up to peek out. His mother was getting upset, he could feel his home pulse with her temper. Opening his bedroom door quietly, he snuck out into the hallway, following his mothers muffled voice.. 

Standing at the bottom of the staircase, his mother stood stiff, hands against her hips while the leafs in her hair were seeping all forms of reds to match her mood. Sonia Kaspbrak was puffing her cheeks in dismay at her husband, “They don’t even appreciate our gifts! It’s a waste of our talents and time!” 

If one of the mortals of Derry saw eddies parents, they would think they stepped right out of the 1950’s. Sonia was in her favorite style of that era, a ‘day dress’ she once claimed when she sowed it. A cotton plisse, yellow fabric wrapping around her round form. A sharp collar with little beads sewed in a design of vines, the same beads also ran along the short sleeves of the outfit. A thin brown belt tucked into her waist to give what she called, ‘ an hourglass figure’ while the skirt ran down to her knees, puffing out with every sharp movement she made. ‘A respectful length’ she noted more then once.

Eddie liked his mothers clothing, there was something… Soft? About it. She always picked colors that matched her season, dark browns, reds, and oranges. Her hair was always short and curled along her chin, held in place by leaves that changed colors slowly minute by minute. Sonia took her roll of Fall very seriously and she believed the style of the 1950’s fit their family the best. 

And if Sonia believed it was best, then they will have the best.

Eddies father didn’t complain over the style, oddly enough he found a style from that generation that he very much appreciated.

Edward Kaspbrak was as tall as the trees their home surrounded themselves with. Thin like one to. One couldn’t be able to tell at a glance since he never took off his coat. When Edward stepped outside, he was focused on one thing and one thing alone. His duties. 

He wore the same style of suit every time he went out into the town of Derry. A business suit, a crispy tan button up tucked into his dark chocolate high waist pants, a matching suit jacket settling on top with sharp shoulders (per the style he once told Eddie). The only color he would add were his neck ties, those he allowed his son to choose. Eddie always like green and blues so Edward made sure to have enough of those colors around for his son to pick from. You wouldn’t see them anyway, not with Edwards overcoat. It was bulky, fitting him like a box and hung to his knees. It hide his shape from all the others spirits and Edward was fine with that. 

The only thing Edward regretted was not being able to wear those ‘fedoras’.

Kind of hard to wear any hat when you have branches covered the most of your hair.

Where Sonia had leafs of multiple colors in her thick chestnut hair, Edward had bare branches. They were long and sturdy But flexible enough to twist and curl into one another, looping into Edwards dark hair, you never knew where one branch began and where it ended. They all came together at the top of his head. A crown for the spirit of Fall.. Sometimes, if the feeling came along, Edward would have specks of green, moss or blades of grass, cover some of the branches much to Eddies delight. 

Eddie touched the top of his own head carefully, feeling the brittle surface of his own branches. They didn’t twist and mold into a single smooth shape like his fathers, no, these twisted and pointed up. They would bend away from his curly hair and reach for the sky, finger like tips breaking off if he hit too close to a wall any object near by. The younglings of their village called his crown, ‘antlers’ claiming he was more of a baby deer then a spirit like his fathers. He couldn’t keep up with the others.

Eddie was having problems controlling his energy and while his father would caress his cheek, soft brown eyes reassuring that he would be able to walk in his foot steps, that time will allow his talents to take root, his mothers could not stand the idea of her own off spring falling behind. 

So much so that some nights when Edward would go off to join the others of their village, to see what new animal, what new plant life he could creature or grow, Sonia would beckon Eddie to the sitting room, sit him down on the carpet before her while she settled on the coach. Eddie did not like these nights, not at all. His mother would lovely brush her fingers through his hair, messing with his curls, basking how they looked like her own, everyone would say so but they wouldn’t notice past those stubborn branches. Sonia would remind Eddie that he was to follow his fathers footsteps, Eddie was going to be the next Fall spirit of Derry and everyone would see what a beautiful job they do and how they would admire their family’s power.

‘But these branches Eddie-bear’ she would coo, ‘these branches need to change. Now I want you to control them like your father, tell them where to go.’

And Eddie would, he would sit on the floor, hands curled tightly in his shorts, knuckles white, face flushed with his struggle, his mind screaming for his branches to follow his word, to please, please, PLEASE bend, please don’t look so brittle, gray and ash of life but strong and busting with color! Please round their corners back towards him, dance into his hair and creature a different shape! Any shape! He would sit there trying, tears blurring his eyes until he felt his mothers hand touched his branches. 

Every time she touched them, his body froze. 

If she touched them, that meant he failed.

For every time Sonia had to touch his branches, that meant she ‘must help her youngling’ and with a quick twist of her wrist, she would snap the offended branch off. 

It hurt every time. 

Eddie learned crying didn’t stop his mother from removing his branches, she didn’t bat an eye to the sharp pain that hit his skull, she didn’t understand that he was connected to them, his own energy pulsed through that wood, they are apart of him. 

Sonia would repeat the same thing every time he hiccuped, ‘if they are apart of you, then you could bend them at anytime.’

So he learned to keep quiet, let his tears fall to his lap and hope it ends soon so he could return to his room and nurse his battered crown, soothed the whispered voices the branches let out. The next day when his father noticed the damage, He would simply frown at his son, cold fingers reaching out to brush gently at the bark. 

What could his father really do? Any time Edward would bring up that state of their son, Sonia would burst into tears and sob into her hands about how she was trying to help their son, how could Edward be okay with how his son was being treated from the others? How could he allow Eddie to struggle on his own? She was doing what’s best!

Edward learned the same thing Eddie did. 

Don’t fight her. Just move on, what’s done is done. Edward would stop her next time. 

Always next time.

Eddie still had some headaches that would come and go, he felt one right now but he ignored it to see the commotion downstairs. 

“Sonia, it is required.” Edward finally spoke once his wife took a breath. He was taking off his overcoat, it seems he just got home.

“I still don’t understand why! Do you see what they give us? I spend week’s creating a beautiful masterpiece anyone would proudly display in their sitting rooms and what is our thanks? We get a jar of water, WATER EDWARD.”

Sonia followed her husband into his office, waving her hands madly, “Don’t even get me started on those ‘hippies’, why you remember what they gave us last year don’t you?!”

Edward pressed his thin lips in thought, unbutton his suit jacket carefully. “I believe-‘

“They gave us soap darling, SOAP!” Sonia quickly answered, “They were practical telling us we smell! How rude!”

“I believe they made it with their own nectars?”

Sonia scoffed, arms crossing tightly in front of her chest, “like that makes it any better. I tossed those ‘offerings’” she sneered, “into the backyard where they below. I would never allow those to touch our skin.”

Eddie remembered those. Sitting on the middle step, he thought back to his parents coming home that year, how his mother was ranting a storm about the exchange and what she did with the gifts she deemed, ‘unworthy of this household.’ 

Eddie had snuck out to the yard and found them. They were the size of his hand and round like a orb. There were three, each one a different color and scent.

One was dark blue with babies breath sprinkled in it. One was bright pink with the scent of roses. The last one was his favorite. It was white and had a swirl of colors mixed in. Eddie could see yellows, purples, blues, and the scent was confusing! It was like someone took random flowers they could find and toss it into the batch. There wasn’t one scent that stood out, they all mixed and overpowered each other.

Eddie didn’t know why, but he liked that one. 

Sonias sharp voice brought him back to the present, hands grabbing the railing to peer down into the chaos.

“Edward dear, you must be joking!”

Edward loosed his tie, a burnt orange with red thread bunch together to make berries in random spots that Eddie picked out for him that morning. He let out a deep sigh, knowing what was to come to his statement.

“It’s time Sonia.”

“It’s too soon.” She stressed, hands folded together in worry. “He’s too young, he wont be able to handle it!”

“They all bring their younglings every year.” Edward stated, rolling his up his sleeves. “It would do our son good to meet the others.”

“He would do fine never meeting them. They don’t understand our way and to expose Eddie-bear to it, it’s asking for trouble! I won’t allow this darling, I won’t!”

“My sweet marigold.”

Eddie pinched his face at the nickname, why his father choose to call his mother nothing but flowers was beyond him. 

Edward stepped closer to his partner with a soft smile on his face, one hand reaching up to flick the ever changing leafs in Sonias hair lightly causing a flush of pink to hit her round cheeks. His fingers cupped her face gently, his voice low in his whisper, “You care for our youngling so much. I couldn’t ask for a better half.”

Sonias leafs tussled with joy at his praise, her mouth stretching into a wide grin as she raised her handspring cup his own, resting her face against it, feeling the warmth of his skin. “You would never let anything happen to him.” She nodded quickly in agreement. “That is why I know he will be safe in your care when we talk him to the Gather.”

Sonias eyes shot wide and parted her lips in protest but Edward tipped his head down, touching his lips to her forehead. “We will keep an eye on him marigold. It’s time they see how far our youngling has come.” Sonia pouted, her feet shuffling on the floor in resistance but Edward smiled still, fingers dancing against her curled, tickling behind her ear until she giggled. 

“Alright… we will take him. But! He needs to stay close to us.”  
“Of course.”  
“I don’t want him interacting with the others just yet, it’s too soon!”  
“Alright.”

With a sigh, Sonia nodded in acceptance. “Then it’s settled. Well, with all this talk of the Gather I need to get started on the gifts. Shouldn’t take me long, we have what, four days left?”  
“Seven. They haven’t celebrated their ‘xmas’ the mortals are so fond of.”

Sonia rolled her eyes annoyed, “A holiday about a made up myth while we stand right here. Insulting! Well there will plenty of time then, I need to get started. You will let Eddie-bear know of our decision yes? Break it to him gently, we don’t want to stress the poor boy.” With her husbands nod, Sonia tipped her head to the side, her cheek held high in wait, allowing Edward to press a kiss to it. “I’ll see you later this evening darling.”

“Of course.” Edward responded, lowering his arms back to his side while she waltz out from his office, her voice already echoing in the halls with ideas. She walked passed Eddie without notice, his small form hiding behind the rails. 

Eddie watched her leave before looking back to his father, jumping when the same brown eyes stared back into his own. Edward nodded at his son with a private smile that Eddie returned with one of his own. 

He was going to the Gather!

He was going to meet the other seasons! Fingers curled into the railing on nerve. His body trembling with excitement. 

He was going to meet the other younglings.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddies POV 
> 
> ‘My heart is racing, 
> 
> I’m scared.
> 
> I’m excited.
> 
> I want to give them a gift because maybe, if they like the gift. They might like me.
> 
> Then maybe we could be friends…’

24th day of 1996

Hello Journal, 

Father just got mother to agree to let me go to the Gather! It is seven days away and I am so nervous I can’t stop shaking! I’m sure you don’t know what I am talking about. The Gather is an event the Season’s hold once a year, always on the town ‘New Year’. It seems the town of Derry celebrates the death of 1996 and welcoming the new, 1997.

It’s the one day we all get to meet one another and exchange gifts. 

Mother does not like this tradition, it makes the leafs in her hair dry and crack when she talks about it. The Higherlights set this event in place in order for all seasons to bond and see there can not be one without another, we give gifts as a ‘thank you’ for the work one another has done to our town. No one is left out, everyone is given the same gift, the same appreciation and the same attention. 

The only difference is the speech. 

Since we are Fall, Father told me to each season, when we had our gift over, we must say the following. 

“As we bring Autumn to the town of Derry, accept this offering as our token to your season.’

Mother tells me that the other seasons are a group of ‘lazy spirits whom dont do an honest days work!’

She hates Spring the most ever since this ‘Woodstock’ happened as my father explained, this ‘era of free love and peace’ got wind in Derry and Spring lapped it up, changing their entire appearance to embrace what mommy called a ‘dirty hippie infestation’. 

That’s putting it politely. 

I looked up what ‘Woodstock’ meant and can you believe mortals went to empty lots of earth and danced nude under the sun? Some were covered in mud and dirt, others barely wore any clothing, just paint and colorful ribbons and fabrics. I can see how she turns her nose to it, I prefer my clothes over going shirtless. 

I might trade in the sweaters mother gets me though. They itch so much.

My parents like to dress me up like a doll sometimes. Mother always finds these thick sweaters in all shades of yellow and orange to match with all my brown shorts. Father favorite are the vests, always pulls one out from his coat telling me, 

‘You will look like a true gentlemen my boy.’  
‘No one ever notices me…’  
‘We do son. We always do.’

Mother is leaving for the day in search for items to make an approbate ‘gift’ for the event. Something that represents our realm but still shows our gratitude to the others. 

‘Some gratitude,’ mother always says, ‘they always try to over shadow our season. Why, back in 1980s, Summer had the audacity to push a ‘heatwave’ towards the end of their schedule causing us to run two weeks late, TWO WEEKS! If I delayed Winter for two weeks, you know very well I would be called before the Higherlights but if Summer does it, not a peep!’

Father tells me to take what mother says with a grain of salt.

But this is a tradition even mother can not ignore so for the next seven days, every spirit of each realm, for every town across the earth, must create a gift to bring as an offering to the others. 

I want to bring a gift as well.

A gift for the other younglings who will be there. 

——————————

25th day of 1996

Journal,

I have decided to make the others a ‘journal’ as well! If they are like me, even just a little, they may too enjoy owning something silly like the locals of Derry. Maybe they will put their own thoughts into you like this, wouldn’t that be great?

I told mother about my idea and she dismissed it. ‘No my little elm’ she told me, not a fan on the nickname. ‘This is for the seasons, not their offspring.’

I should have known mommy wouldn’t like it. It seems whenever I want to do something out of the realm of our home or responsibilities she is quick to shut it down and remind us who we are and what we stand for. 

I’m still not allowed to go to the town of Derry on my own without them, its forbidden for me to go when it’s not our turn. 

I don’t see the harm. The locals can’t see us unless we will it, I’ve been practicing every day to keep myself cloaked in the wind and father told me I was improving! Even that curly hair boy I found in the woods didn’t notice me when I snuck up to see what he was drawing. 

But mother still forbids it.

Oh! Speaking of father, I told him too. He seemed pleased even if he didn’t say it. He just smiled at me and tapped my branches before joining mother outside. 

I never met another youngling from another season. Mother keeps us at our home until she deemed it ready to venture into Derry. The only place I ever see is home and the other Fall spirits during the off seasons, training with the other younglings to improve our energy. This will be the first time I see another spirit with my own eyes, all three of them.

My heart is racing, 

I’m scared.

I’m excited.

I want to give them a gift because maybe, if they like the gift. They might like me.

Then maybe we could be friends…

I don’t have any friends here in Autumn. Whenever I go to the elders for our training, the other offsprings stay away from me. I try sometimes, every now and then. I’ll go to a group during our afternoon meal and ask to join. Father says I can’t make any friends if I don’t try to express myself, ‘put yourself out there’.

So I do, I try to join and every time they tell me to go away… They call my mother awful names, call me awful names

They tell me my father is the only spirit in the family Autumn respects. 

My father is one of the most powerful Spirits here in Autumn. A fact my mother loves to remind everyone about. My father can influence the wildlife of Derry, showing them to safest areas to graze, protect them from the ‘hunters’ and shield them away for the winter. Wildlife is hard to control to spirits, ‘they have a mind of their own.’ He tells me, ‘They can sense us but that doesn’t mean they will abide by us. We must respect them as their own before they deem us worthy.’ 

Father has the Derry wildlife at his command, he even has nature bowing to him.

Mothers responsibilities of Derry involve the plant growth, sometimes I can see mother get jealous of father when he talks to the trees, its breath taking to witness. The tree seem to shiver in his presence and ruffle their foliage for his attention. Mother has to push her energy into the roots to influence n while father can just speak. 

Sometimes when mother gets upset, the trees start to break… Its such an ugly sound..

I am suppose to take up after my father, to speak to the winds, to influence the wildlife to my call. 

Mother says I am a late bloomer, that my powers will grow and I will be able to take over fathers role. ‘You have big shoes to fill my little elm’ she reminds me. 

Father Is the soft cool breeze the locals of Derry praise when Summer finally ends.

‘That will be you elm. One day.’

But my fathers reputation doesn’t save us for mothers need to boost. So the other spirits of Autumn mock us behind their hands and tell their younglings to stay away from me. 

I’m the ‘little Elm who can’t control his branches’ 

‘Little Eddie who can’t change the leafs.’

‘Annoying youngling. Just like his mommy..’ 

A failed spirit of Autumn. 

I hope things will be different at the Gather…

**Author's Note:**

> This story will have different displays.
> 
> Third person style
> 
> First person style -Journal entries


End file.
